The Spell of Winter
by teaspiced
Summary: AU, role reversal. Katara is an exiled princess of the Southern Water Tribe, searching for a way to restore her honour. Zuko is just trying to survive. Zatara.
1. Chapter 1

Zuko dreamt of a witch.

In his dream he saw her standing on the tundra. The blue-white ice was flat and endless, and gleamed as bright as bone under the winter sun. There was a wild wind howling. As the witch walked towards him, great swathes of snow lifted up from the ground with the force of the breeze and clutched at her ankles, hungry for attention. But she paid no mind to the snow. She only had eyes for him. And oh, those eyes: the witch had true Water Tribe eyes. Blue as the bitter deep. Blue as the watery graves of a hundred thousand good Fire Nation soldiers. In her dark face they shone as bright as cut glass.

Don't come closer, he tried to say. But he found his mouth was numb. He touched unsteady fingers to his lips. They were frozen shut. He realised he couldn't stand – he couldn't run away. The ice had fused to his legs, pinned him down as tight as prey caught in a trap. The witch didn't have to use her dark tricks on him to hold him like a puppet. No, she'd already cut his strings. There was no escape.

She knelt down in front of him. Even though she was dressed like a waterbending witch, in deep blue-black, he realised she was no old Master. In fact, she was young. A woman grown, but not by much, with soft features and a wide, dark-lashed gaze. If it weren't for the long, pale scar bisecting the left side of her face, she'd have been quite beautiful.

The witch lifted a hand. Hesitated. He saw her mouth part: saw her moving to speak, too touch him, and then –

Then he woke up.

"Oh good," drawled a voice. He leapt up out of his bedroll, turning sharply towards the sound, disorientated from his nightmare. It was just Azula. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. She already had her battered brown parka on, the hood lifted up to obscure her face. But he could see her grin, all sharp white teeth. Shark-like. "I thought I'd have to zap you awake. See?" She lifted her hand airily. Lightning crackled on her fingers. "Zap."

"Stop that," hissed Zuko. "What if someone sees you?"

"Then I suppose I'll have to kill them," Azula said, unwontedly cheerful. "Stop being such a bore, Zu-Zu, and get ready. We're leaving."

"We've only been here a day," Zuko protested, even as he began packing away his bedroll with the quick ease that came from experience. "Another night and then we can catch a boat to – "

"No," Azula cut in. "I think it'd be better if we left now."

Zuko paused. Just for a moment. Then continued packing. Azula gave a low sigh.

"Oh, don't fuss," she said.

"I didn't say anything," Zuko said. His voice was brittle.

"I didn't kill anyone," said Azula. "Never fear, dear brother. I keep my promises."

"When it suits you," muttered Zuko. For a while, he kept his gaze steadily averted from hers, focusing on the task at hand. But then finally, unable to hold out any longer, he looked at her.

She was staring at him with bright, unblinking eyes. Was she cataloguing his weaknesses or just thinking quiet thoughts? It was hard to tell with Azula.

"It still suits me," she said, turning towards the door. "Are you ready?"

Zuko hefted up his pack. He touched his fingers lightly to his lips. His mouth was unmarked, lips oddly cool.

"I guess I don't have a choice," he said, and followed.

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Zuko was loyal to his sister, but it was a loyalty tempered by his awareness of the darkness in Azula's nature. Did she love him or simply tolerate him? He didn't know if she was crazed or simply canny; naturally sadistic or just twisted up by the need for revenge. The time before the long winter was a blur to him now. The fog of childhood had swallowed it up. If Azula had once been a sweet and soft-natured thing, Zuko did not remember it.

He supposed he'd once been an innocent too – but who could tell? All he knew was that Azula was now unpredictable and too powerful for her own good. She had the strength to hurt, to kill, and relished using it. And she had hurt Zuko – more than once. He had no reason to trust her, beyond blood. And anyone who had met a waterbending witch knew that you couldn't trust your own blood.

It was your blood that enslaved you.

But Azula had made him a promise; and once, long ago, on the night when the long winter began, Azula had saved his life.

It was the running he remembered best from that night. They'd run for what had felt like hours, run until Zuko's lungs ached as if they were smoke-scorched and his feet bled. His family had hidden with their most trusted servants in the catacombs under the palace, but the Water Tribe warriors had filled the tunnels with water and, terrified of being drowned like rats, they'd fled into the open.

Zuko had watched his father die first. He'd closed his eyes before they'd reached his mother.

They'd been trapped, the two of then. He and Azula. They couldn't have run anymore. The palace marble had gone slippery with ice. They were shivering. As warriors with painted faces closed in on them, Azula had tried to raise fire with her fingers. Tried, and tried, and tried again. But it was too cold. Too cold.

"Use your bending," hissed Azula. "Come on Zu-zu, help me."

Zuko couldn't. It felt like the fire in him had been snuffed out. He didn't know how it had happened. But his insides were cold. Something had died within him. There were no flames to reach for anymore; no breath of life to fill his lungs.

But he'd had his blade. The blade his uncle the Fire Lord had given him. A fine strong Earth Nation blade. He raised it and held it steady.

"Useless," Azula said, scornful. "You can't fight them with that. They'll kill you."

"Then I'll die with honour," Zuko said quietly, with all the bravery left in him.

Azula's eyes had narrowed, full of hate and fury.

"You think I'm going to let the Water Tribes kill us like animals?" For the first time Zuko saw there were tears frozen to her cheeks, thick as clusters of stars. They were tears of fury. A child's tears. "No. I REFUSE."

The room filled with blue light.

Lightning.

There was a great deal of death that night. But Zuko and Azula lived, and ran for their lives, and never stopped running.

Without Azula, Zuko would have died. It was a debt that bound them together permanently. As they trudged away from the village they'd been staying in, towards a new city, Zuko turned to look back at scorched, silent fields and dead livestock, and remembered.

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Katara returned to her body slowly. Gently. She modulated her breathing. In out in out, keeping a steady rhythm just like she'd been taught. She stretched out her senses, binding herself back to the physical world. She felt the soft cloth of the sheets beneath her. The prick of light against the closed lids of her eyes. The gentle rocking of the ship as it moved with the ocean. She felt it all.

Then, finally, she opened her eyes.

There was a servant kneeling by her bed, carefully setting out some provisions. Fresh fruit, newly baked bread. Sokka must have stopped at a harbour market while she dreamed.

How long had she been gone?

"Welcome back, Master Katara," the servant said, bowing her head. "Your brother asked me to bring you a food."

"I told him I didn't want to be disturbed," said Katara, and winced when the servant flinched. "No, no, it's fine. It's not your fault. I'll deal with my brother."

"I didn't mean to cause trouble – "

"It's fine, really," Katara cut in hastily. "Just. Can you tell me how long I was gone?"

"Two nights, Master Katara," the servant said, some of the tension leaving her. Then, after a moments hesitation, she raised her gaze and said timidly, "Did you have deep dreams?"

Deep dreams.

She remembered the man caught in the ice. Her ice. The cold panic in his bright eyes; the sharp twist of hatred to his mouth. The way he'd slipped away before she could touch him, her fingers touching the gossamer afterimage he'd left behind in the air. She'd been so very close. Just a moment longer, and he'd have been hers.

"Yes," Katara said softly. "I think I did."


	2. Chapter 2

Katara ate some of what the servant had brought her. She had to be careful not to eat too much, or too quickly. If she'd been asleep as long as the servant had claimed, her body would revolt at too much food. Luckily it was easy to be careful. Katara should have felt famished, but she wasn't hungry at all. Her insides felt blessedly hollow and light, pure as river-washed stone. The hunger would come later. Right now she was still half caught in the web of her deep dreams, still lost in the memory of the man trapped in the ice.

Alone in her quarters, servant dismissed, Katara took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. It was time to return to the world. And returning to the world had to start with the simplest things first. Getting dressed, for one.

At home, among the Southern Water Tribe, Katara had always dressed to reflect her status, in a long, belted fur-lined tunic over a pale shift dress. Womanly clothing, the kind you couldn't run about in easily but gave you an undeniable air of authority. But here there was no one to judge her. Just Sokka, a handful of servants, and a gaggle of warriors that looked barely old enough to have gone ice dodging. So Katara ignored the small trunk tucked in the corner of her quarters, and pulled on her serviceable tunic and leggings, binding a plain sash around her waist. She braided her hair. Dragged on a pair of gloves to keep out the chill. Slipped on her boots.

There. She felt almost normal.

Trudging out onto the deck, she blinked hard, momentarily blinded by the bright winter sunlight. The air was clear and cool, and the sea was calm. It was a peaceful scene, crew ambling about, thin clouds uncurling overhead. Sokka was at the other end of the deck, joking with one of the crew.

He turned as Katara approached, eyes lighting up and his face creasing into a big, joyful grin.

"Katara!" Sokka shouted, waving. "We were starting to worry you'd never wake up."

"You shouldn't have sent someone in to disturb me," said Katara, trying to inject some annoyance in to her voice as she stopped in front of him. "You don't have the right to interfere with waterbending business."

"Had to," Sokka said. "I was worried you'd starve. You're too skinny already."

Katara gave him a narrow glare.

"Do you want to hear about my dreams or just irritate me some more?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"That's a difficult decision," Sokka said. "You may need to give me a minute to think about it."

"Sokka…"

"Kidding, kidding!" Sokka turned to the warrior he'd been talking to earlier. "Tulok, buddy, you're going to have to give me and Katara a minute alone."

"Sorry," Katara added. As soon as the word left her mouth she felt foolish. What kind of waterbending master _apologised_?

The warrior who'd been laughing at Sokka's jokes just seconds before gave Katara a tight, guarded nod of acknowledgement.

"Master Katara," he said. "Sokka. I'll leave you two alone to talk."

"Right, thanks," Sokka said warmly, placing one hand briefly on Tulok's shoulder. "We'll talk later."

Katara saw some of the stiffness leave the warrior at that. Typical. Sokka had a way with people. When they'd been younger, Sokka had charmed people accidentally – he'd had a clumsy way of making other people adore him. But now that they were older, he'd made a careful, measured art out of winning people's hearts.

Katara may have been the waterbender, the Master, but Sokka was the one everyone loved. And he was a Chief's son, on top of that. He had the makings of a great leader.

If Katara's mission didn't destroy him first, of course.

Feeling a familiar wave of despair wash over, Katara took a tight hold on her emotions and leaned closer to Sokka, lowering her voice so the warrior wouldn't hear a word as he walked away.

"I think I dreamt of one of them."

Sokka's expression went hard; his eyes feral-bright. Yes. That was the face of a future Water Tribe leader.

"The Fire Lord or the prince?" asked Sokka urgently.

Katara shook her head. She'd seen countless drawings of Fire Lord Iroh and Lu Ten, and the man in her dream hadn't looked quite like either of them. He'd been too thin – almost gaunt, where Lu Ten and Iroh were both always depicted as stocky and strong.

"Neither," she said.

"Ah." Sokka visibly deflated. "So, if you didn't dream of a Fire Nation royal – "

"No," cut in Katara. "I did dream of a royal. But this one was… younger." She hesitated. Thought of the sharp, delicate bones of that face; the sneering mouth and the yellow-gold eyes. (_Blood always speaks true._) "I think he was one of Ozai's."

Sokka was silent for a long moment.

"Second or third in line," he said finally. "That might be good enough. And who knows. Maybe he'll lead us straight to the Fire Lord."

"Maybe," echoed Katara. She stared off into the distance, at the soft edges where the sea met the sky and burned a beautiful white. "I don't know, Sokka. But I think I'm meant to find him. I think I dreamed about him for a reason." She exhaled. Almost a sigh. "Maybe that's enough."

Sokka nodded. For all that he mocked her, he knew better than to truly question her gift. He was Southern Water Tribe after all: from the tribe that had produced the first of the waterbending witches, those women who'd learned to bend their enemies' blood and turn them into helpless puppets. He knew how to respect things he didn't fully understand.

"So where do we find him?" he asked.

"I don't know yet," admitted Katara. "The dream ended too early." That man. The raw hatred in his face… Katara shook her head to clear the image away. "I'll need to dream again if I want to find him."

"We'll go wherever you say," Sokka said quietly. "Whenever you say it."

"Tonight," Katara said. "I'll look for him again tonight."

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It was Master Yugoda who'd first warned Katara about the dangers of dreaming.

"True dreams are a gift granted to us by the moon spirit," she'd said. "When we waterbenders choose to do so, we can dream very deep dreams. With the blessing of the moon, we can wander the dark corners of the human heart. We can learn great secrets. It is a powerful gift." A pause. "But you must be careful with it, Katara. Very careful. If you dream too long and too deep, if your spirit loses its connection with your flesh, you will become lost."

"If that happens, will I die?" Katara had asked.

"There are many things worse than dying," Yugoda had said. Which had been no answer at all, but warning enough.

Katara sat in her quarters, her braid unbound. It was dark – she'd only lit one small candle, which flickered on the edge of burning out entirely. The ship was silent. Katara could feel the ebb and swell of the waves beneath them, carrying them onwards and onwards. It felt like a heartbeat.

Tui and La, she thought. You gave me this gift. Am I fool, to try and use it to save myself?

Two years. It had been two years since she'd last stumbled away from home, shamed and scarred and banished. She was sick of travelling endlessly, never getting any closer to her goal. It seemed as if the Fire Lord and his son had vanished in a puff of smoke. No matter how long she dreamed, no matter how long she and Sokka searched, there was no sign of them at all.

To find the Fire Lord and his son, to murder them outright or bring them home to face justice: It was a fool's errand. A hopeless task.

Katara had come close to giving up in the last few months. The number of times she'd tried to work up the courage to tell Sokka it was over, to beg him to go back home and leave her to her shame…

But no. Not now. Now she had hope.

She would find her Fire Nation royal, this son of Ozai. She would bind him to her will, and she'd use him to lead her to the Fire Lord and his son. It was the only way. The only road home.

She lay down and closed her eyes. Inhaled, exhaled. Reached outside herself to the waves that moved beneath her and the moon that hung above her in a starry sky. Reached out, and out.

In the dark of her room, by a guttering candle, Katara began to weave a dream.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you so much for the lovely comments! I am so glad that you're enjoying this fic, and appreciate the support. I am sorry for the lack of Zuko in this chapter, but the next one should more than make up for it.


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